


Dreamers Pt. 1

by koreanboyswriting



Series: Dreamers [1]
Category: K-pop, 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: Angst, Eating Disorders, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/M, Illegal Activities, Teen Angst, Underage Smoking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-07
Updated: 2018-02-07
Packaged: 2019-03-14 22:55:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13600173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/koreanboyswriting/pseuds/koreanboyswriting
Summary: You’re having trouble deciding what you want to do with your life after a traumatic event makes you quit the only thing you’ve ever loved, ballet. When your mom ships you off to the best performing arts school in the country, Havilliard, you think your life is over. But then you meet Park Jimin, the beautiful, and talented modern dancer who helps you realize that all your dreams are within reach.





	Dreamers Pt. 1

You took a drag, letting the cannabis fill up your lungs until you could feel it seep into your bones and assuage your thoughts. You exhaled, the smoke swirling out of your mouth and disappearing into the cold night air. The atmosphere was less than comfortable though, you were sitting in the bed of Jason’s truck, who was also less than satisfactory company, but smoking alone would make you look depressed, and you were supposed to be making an effort to be better, if not actually being better. 

You pulled your coat around you tighter, crossing your arms in a vain attempt to block out the icy air. It was definitely freezing, and if a rain cloud were to pass by right now you were sure the droplets would turn into snow. Jason saw you pulling your coat tighter around yourself, and stretched out his arm around you, pulling you into his body. You shimmied out of his grasp and put your back to the adjacent wall of the truck bed taking another heavy hit from the blunt you were sharing. Jason looked at you and raised his eyebrows in confusion, you exhaled slowly through your nose, “What?” You said, your words dripping with sass.

“Is there a problem?” Jason prompted you his arms held up.

“Not unless you have one.” You turned away, looking towards the neon lights in the gas station windows across the street.

“Look, cut the crap y/n. We haven’t had sex in like four months. You won’t let me touch you at all. What’s the fucking problem?”

“Look Jason, I know you didn’t want a relationship with me and that’s fine, but at least treat me with some fucking respect.” You found yourself quickly going towards the bubbling anger that always seemed to be right below the surface now and days.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Jason was talking down to you again like he always did whenever you got into an argument, as if he was already dismissing you before the points were even established.

“I’m talking about you FUCKING SARAH!” You burst out before you even knew it and Jason was looking at you with surprise in his eyes. “Yeah, I fucking know, I’ve known for months! If you want to fuck other people Jason, just fucking tell me so I’m not sitting around here being loyal to your stupid ass.”

Jason schooled his features into his usual indifference, “Look I don’t know what you’re talking about, Sarah will fuck anything that moves, she probably has an STD. She’s the last thing I’d get under.”

“Ugh, Jason please cut the bullshit. I went to Jessica’s party and I saw you walking upstairs with her.” You were just tired now, you looked up at the stars and hit the blunt again, hoping the high would numb your problems like it had been doing for the last three months.

“Ok fine, I fucked Sarah.” You rolled your eyes at Jason’s final acknowledgment of the truth, which seemed to spur him into anger you hadn’t seen him release before.

“Look! I wouldn’t have fucked her, if you had given me some!”

“Oh, so it’s my fault that you can’t keep your dick in your pants. Okay, that makes complete sense.”

“Look bitch, if you’re not planning on giving me any you can get the fuck out of my truck right now.”

“Jason, what the hell? Are you being serious right now?”

“Bitch, I said to get the fuck out!”

“Fuck you Jason.”

You climbed out of his truck bed, flinging the rest of your blunt at Jason, who squealed, and jumped up brushing the embers off the front of his shirt.

You walked out of the empty parking lot you were parked in towards the gas station pissed off and cold. Where the hell were you going to find a ride this late? There was no way you were going to call your mom, because she’d just give you a thirty-minute lecture about how you were throwing your future away.

The lights in front of the gas station started blurring and swirling around, a painting coming to life, swimming in your eyes. You tried to focus on your steps and your breathing, but a high had never gotten you this messed up before. You steadied your breath, but now you were panicking the lights were getting more and more twisted, and suddenly they were too bright and you just wanted to close your eyes, so you did, and your body fell connecting with the tar on the street.

***

You blinked your eyes rapidly trying to adjust to the lights being shined in your eyes.

“Y/n? Can you hear me?

You nodded your head to the doctor’s prompting.

“Do you want to sit up?”

“Yes please,” Your voice came out cracked and you cleared your throat, trying to bring saliva to your dry mouth as the doctor gently put his hands on your back and helped you sit up. As your posture straightened you saw your mother sitting in a chair at the end of your bed covering her eyes with her hands. You chose to ignore her self-pity and focus on the doctor and who was now testing your vision, having you follow his finger while he shined the small light in your eyes. After he was satisfied, he put his stethoscope to each side of your chest and back, prompting you to breathe in and out, while listening to your heartbeat. He nodded to the nurse after he was finished and she filled a cup with water from the pitcher on the side table and handed it to you.

“Well, y/n as expected,” as he started your mother rose from her chair and stood next to the nurse on the side of your bed crossing her arms and giving you the mom stare. “Your blood sugar was too low and you are also slightly dehydrated, these two-combined caused you to pass out suddenly. You are not diabetic correct?” You nodded to confirm you were not.

“Have you not been eating lately?” Your cheeks heated and you looked down at your lap. For the past month, you felt yourself no longer having an appetite and you just didn’t want to eat, smoking had usually filled the void, or given you the munchies enough to eat, but you usually felt disgusting the morning after that and you’d find yourself purging in the bathroom. Of course, your mother being the self-absorbed person that she was, took this as a moment to enter in.

“Are you serious y/n? Like you’re some starving child! How do you think this makes me look? Huh?! Like I’m some incompetent mother who doesn’t feed you!”

You just looked down at your hands the blush in your cheeks turning to heat that spread across your face as you fought to corral in your anger.

“Look I know your upset at the issue at hand ma’am, but would you mind leaving the room with Nurse Maureen here, I just want to talk with your daughter for a minute and then you are free to take her home.”

Your mom looked at you, and gave you the look that signaled to you that the conversation wasn’t over, but she left the room with the nurse, who held lightly onto your mom’s elbow as she guided her out.

“Y/n, getting high won’t solve your problems.” You looked up at the doctor with shock in your eyes. “I didn’t tell your mom because it seems that there is a larger problem at hand. If you are insecure about your body there are plenty of healthier ways to lose weight, but I sense that’s not why you are bingeing and starving yourself. If you ever just need someone to talk to or want fellow people your age to talk to, I hold a group therapy session on Saturdays here at the hospital.” He pulled a brochure from his pocket and handed it to you. “Please consider coming, I think we could be a great deal of help to you, and it doesn’t hurt to have a couple more people in your corner.” You faked a smile as you took the brochure from his hand. “And hey, please eat for the sake of your mom and I.” He gave you pitying look and left the room.

You slid from the bed and wiggled your feet into your converse, grabbed your jacket from the back of the chair your mother was sitting in, and threw the brochure into the trash as you exited the room. You walked into the hallway to find your mom looking at her watch and tapping her foot on the floor as if you being in the hospital was just taking time out of her day. She was in her usual tailored outfit, her blazer thrown over her arm exposing her crisp white button up which was tucked into her pleated slacks, with her polished black pumps, which gleamed in the light from the fluorescents. Your mother was beautiful in all the ways that you weren’t her hair was glossy, jet black, and pin straight, her bone structure was prominent, her cheek bones high and jaw line angular. You were her opposite, she was straight lines and geometric angles, and you were soft, and petite. She looked up when the door clicked behind you, and rushed over to you, carting you towards the elevators by your elbow as she hoisted her purse higher on her shoulder.

“You have no idea the disruption you have caused today. I have three cases going on right now. Do you understand how stressed I already am? I don’t need to add you to my list of problems, I already have too many. Do you realize how lucky you are?” Your mom shoved you into the elevator as soon as it pinged open, hitting the “door close” button even as people were approaching, trying to get into the open elevator. The doors closed and your mother started up again. “You know, today in court, two kids were placed into a shelter because their mom is a crack addict and they’ve been mistreated for months, y/n. And here you are not eating for attention. I’m so disappointed in you. You had the perfect future all set out for you, and then you just throw it all away! For what?! Community college and that low-life boy from high school you hang around. I make too much money for you to be at community college. Even though your dad and I are divorced, we can easily send you to any four-year school.”

You tuned her out as she went on, blabbering the stuff she usually did. Taking anything you did and turning it into an issue about herself. Never trying to hear you, just wanting you to hear her.

You were so sick of her bullshit, but when your parents got divorced your mother got sole custody and your father who was cheating on your mother with his assistant, left; but he made sure to send you a check for your birthday and Christmas every year, as if you gave a shit about his money. You let your mom drag you from the elevator to the black SUV, waiting in front of the hospital and shove you inside. You pulled out your phone from the inside pocket of your jacket and started flipping it around in your hands for something to do as your mom got in on the other side already nagging you to put on your seatbelt. Not even a second later her phone rang and she started barking orders into the receiver of her cellphone. You smiled half-heartedly at your driver and he gave you a pitying smile in the rearview mirror and peeled off.

Your mother’s phone was always ringing, and you were surprised it hadn’t gone off earlier. She never failed to answer it though, except for when you called. When you were younger you used to call her when you got home from school, asking her when she’d get home, after the third time, she yelled at you and told you not to call her with stupid questions because her phone was only for work. After that you learned to handle any issues you had on your own. Your mother was one of the top defense attorney’s in the state, and that ruthless attitude she had for her cases reflected in every facet of her life. Five years of marriage and a kid later your dad had enough of it, divorcing your mother in favor of his assistant who was twenty years his junior. You saw him for every holiday, having two of everything until you turned sixteen when your dad decided he didn’t give a shit anymore and started sending checks instead. It wasn’t as if you missed him though, he, like your mother was a workaholic, while she spent all day at the courthouse, he spent his days at the office monitoring the stock market, while you were sent to the most prestigious schools and raised by nannies. There were worse ways to have it though, so you never found yourself complaining, and cherished any moment of solitude you had.

The car stopped outside your Chicago townhouse and you slipped from the car walking towards the front door, not surprised when the car zipped off again, leaving you alone, once again. You walked into the door and Lori greeted you immediately.

“Miss y/n, are you okay? What would you like to eat? I’ll make anything you want.”

“No thanks Lori, I’m not hungry.”

Lori rushed over, grabbing you by your wrist, “Now you listen to me young lady, you are going to go sit down at that table over there, and you are going to eat whatever I give you, okay?”

You laughed and agreed always finding yourself saying yes to Lori, it was almost always hard not to laugh when Lori got angry, her thick accent would come out more prominent whenever she got angry. So, you walked over to the island and sat down on one of the barstools, and watched Lori as she moved around the kitchen. Thirty minutes later she had a heaping plate of pasta in front of you, a roll, and another plate of salad next to the first.

“Damn Lori, I wasn’t starved just slightly underfed, you trying to feed three people?”

“What are you talking about this used to be your favorite crave meal after Friday practices. Speaking of dance practice, when are you going bac—,” 

“I don’t want to talk about Lori.” You put your hands on the countertop.

“Okay, that’s fine sweetheart, just eat please, you look skinnier every day.”

You stomach grumbled slightly looking at the food, and you picked up your fork digging into the pasta in front of you. Lori watched you fondly and filled up your water glass every time you took a sip. After you were halfway through your pasta she seemed satisfied and left the kitchen carrying the laundry basket she set down when you walked in. You moved from your pasta to your salad and ate a bit more, before deciding you didn’t want to push it. You got up and scraped the rest of the pasta into a plastic container along with the roll, before cleaning your dishes hurriedly so Lori would think you ate it all. You slipped upstairs sneaking away with the container. You walked into your room and closed the door placing the container on your dresser, you were about to flop onto your bed when you saw the familiar box on top of your vanity the lid tucked underneath it. You walked towards your vanity looking into the box, the pink satin was just as you remembered it, slightly faded and worn, the laces were carefully wrapped around the shoe, you pulled one of them out of the box, inspecting them, realizing Lori or your mother must have had them cleaned. The thought of your mother taking them to be cleaned suddenly made you angry again, and you threw the shoe back into the box, pushing down the lid on top, you flung it across the room towards your open closet. Just being in your room made you angry and you wanted to escape, everything reminded you of what you wanted to leave behind. The walls were mauve, the wall around your dresser plastered with frames of you at dance recitals, your dresser held all your awards, even a shadow box with your childhood pointe shoes in it. You grabbed a pillow and shoved your face into it trying to suppress the tears from falling, but you found yourself falling asleep.

You woke up and the sun was down, the moon lighting up your room, you groggily got up, stripping out of your clothes that still smelled like the hospital. You walked towards your closet pulling on a new pair of jeans, an oversized black sweatshirt, and your chucks. You pulled out the small box you kept in the back of your underwear drawer and pulled a twenty from the wad of cash, you slipped your pipe and lighter from the box and put it all in the pocket of your jacket. You closed the drawer making sure to cover it up with clothes before, then you grabbed the container of spaghetti, and left your room. Lori was gone by now, and your mom was probably holed up in her office. So, you ripped the hospital bracelet from your wrist and threw it into the trash, as you walked into the kitchen. You then grabbed a plastic fork from the box in the pantry, and your keys from the hook besides the door, and slipped out and into the night. 

There was something about nighttime that you loved so much more than daytime. The moon seemed like a friend, he held your secrets, the stars his only confidants with which he would whisper to. Nighttime was for everyone, it didn’t judge you. You walked the six blocks from your house to the bus station, and as expected Harold was sitting in his usual spot, rubbing a hand warmer back in forth in his hands.

“Hey Harold!” You shouted at the homeless man, startling him out of his spot on the bench, you laughed and ran over to him helping him back onto the bench.

“Don’t do that this late at night girl, I’m an old man, my heart can’t take that kind of excitement.” You chuckled and handed Harold the spaghetti and fork.

“Oh sweetheart, thank you!” Harold patted your hand warmly as he took the food from you. You tried not to flinch at the contact, so you plastered a smile on your face instead.

“I’m not sure I’m the one who needs it though. Darling, you’re looking skinnier and skinnier every day.”

“Oh, hush Harold, I’m just fine.”

“Alright darling, whatever you say.”

Harold sat with you quietly eating his spaghetti as you waited for the train to arrive. When it came to a halt in front of you, you rushed on and waved at him from the window as it pulled away. With Jason no longer available for rides, your only option was the bus, as your mom only traveled by a chauffeur. You didn’t mind the bus though, you liked imagining a life for the people who came on and off the bus. You would set destinations for them, and give them plot lines as the train shuddered along the tracks. Only, this time as you watched the people get on and off the bus you just felt lonely. You didn’t talk to anyone from high school anymore, except Jason, and he wasn’t exactly the picture of an exemplary character. Everyone at your old school seemed to fall into the trap of being stuck up and materialistic. Obviously, you weren’t completely immune, but you could at least see beyond yourself, something most of them never seemed able to accomplish. You pulled up the hood of your jacket and laid your head against the window, tucking your earbuds into your ears, and turning the volume up to drown out the sound of the wheels on the tracks. The ride from your side of town to downtown took a little while, so when you got to the center of the city, you were the only one left from the group of people that got on when you did. 

You thanked the driver and hurried out the door your hood still up as cover from the bracing wind. You ducked your head down and wound through the skyscrapers and busy streets of Chicago, you had walked about twenty blocks when the scenery started to change, the streets got a little dirtier, and the alleys seemed darker. When the familiar store came into view, you quickly crossed the street to the welcoming store front of Al’s Bodega. Your usual dealer was always around here at this time, but he wasn’t leaning against the store’s windows as he always was. So, you walked up to the door pushing it open with your shoulder, the bell jingling as it opened. You walked through the aisles picking through the merchandise and examining the labels to waste time. You finally decided on a pack of pretzel m&m’s; you grabbed the pack and set it down in front of the old cashier. The store owner looked you up and down, surprise etched into his wrinkled face. As soon as you paid you grabbed your bag and went outside pulling your hoodie up to cover you face as much as you could. You knew you weren’t his usual clientele, your clothes designer, and nails manicured, but for some reason his eyes angered you, once again the bubbling anger that seemed to always be just a step away was rising up again. You tore open the bag of m&m’s and ate them as you went through the door the bell clanging as it closed behind you. You ate your m&m’s leaning against the store windows, watching people walk by on the dim street, you turned your head around the corner and saw your usual guy, recognizing him by his signature gaudy clothes. He was exchanging an envelope to another guy for a fat wad of dollar bills. You didn’t quite know the dealer as you had always come over here with Jason, and he did most of the talking, but you were sure he’d recognize your face when you approached him, and you were still a paying customer. His back was to you as you rounded the corner, walking towards him with your hands in your pockets.

He shook hands with the guy he made a deal with, the man nodded his head towards you, your dealer turned around and shouted out to you, “Hey would you look at that Rodney, it’s my classiest customer!”

You rolled your eyes, a smile on your face, you opened your mouth to respond when all of you saw the flashing lights of the two cop cars come zipping down the street. You turned on your heel and booked it as the two guys ran for cover in the alley behind the Al’s. You pumped your legs as fast as you could, your body tiring quickly as you ran for your life down the opposite street. Your hood flew off your head your hair tumbling free, your vision was tunneling and the cold air was making your chest hurt. You chanced a look behind you, only one car was following this time and it was quickly gaining on you. You needed to get off the open sidewalk as soon as you could, so you started pushing through the people walking in the opposite direction, but they were all slowing you down. 

You could just see the nearest alley coming up in the distance, when the police officer’s voice came over the megaphone, “Stop running, there’s nowhere else to go!” The cop car pulled up onto the curb in front of you causing you to crash into hood, the cops came rushing out of the car pinning you down onto the hood. You panted hard, every sharp inhale paining your lungs.

“Stand up and put your hands on the hood.”

The officer removed her hand from the middle of your back and you stood placing your hands on the hood of the SUV. She walked around you and kicked your legs apart into a wider stance as her partner shined his flashlight onto your face. The officer began patting you down stopping at the inside of your jacket, where she pulled out your pipe, money, and lighter.

“You know carrying marijuana paraphernalia is against the law in Illinois?”

You looked down meekly at your shoes and nodded your head.

The male officer walked over to you clicking off his flashlight, “What’s your name?” 

“My name is y/full name-Norfolk.”

“Your June Norfolk’s daughter?” The male officer said.

“The attorney?” The woman officer looked at her colleague a confused look on her face. 

You sighed your head dropping, “Yeah, that’s my mom.”

“Well, you can call her when you get to the precinct. Put your hands behind your back.” 

The officer cuffed your hands, the cool metal, smarting against your hot flesh. Her partner opened the door and she guided you inside, her hand on your head. 

You sat there in the back of the car feeling like an idiot. You could see the scene play out in your head, of your mom walking into the police station. She’d probably just want to leave you there at this point. You wondered if they caught the other guys, and if your old dealer was ratting you out right now, telling them how many times he’d seen you buy from him. You wanted to put your head in your hands, but the handcuffs held them tightly behind your back. You wiggled your arms around trying to be comfortable, but gave up and rested your head on the cage-like partition that separated you from the officers. You played your make-believe scene over and over again in your head drowning out the sounds of the police officer’s radio, and their mindless chatter. After what felt like hours you arrived at the police station, the woman officer took you from the car and led you inside. It was chaos, people were bustling around guiding men that looked far more formidable than you. All the desks you could see were piled high with papers and manila folders, the men behind them looking harried as they worked through them, or answered phones shoving them between the crook of their head and shoulders as they scribbled down information. The woman officer tugged you by your arm, as you had gotten distracted by the scene in front of you. She guided you over to a hallway beside the entry desk, where four phones lined the wall, hung on their receivers.

“You have three minutes.”

You nodded your head curtly and she unlocked your cuffs, moving to stand at the start of the hallway where she started conversing with her partner. You picked up the phone and started wondering if there was someone else you could call besides your mom, but the only person you could think of is Jason and he sure as hell wouldn’t come, which left you with no one else besides the woman herself. You typed in your mom’s number and it rang five times, before she picked up, the call almost going to her voicemail.

“June Norfolk.” She snapped.

“Uh. Mom it’s me.”

“Ugh, y/n. How many times have I told you not to call me. If you need something text me or call my assistant. I’m busy.”

“Look, mom I’m in trouble. I need you to come get me from the police precinct.”

“The police precinct! Y/n what the fuck did you do!”

“Nothing! I’m just in a situation that looks bad”

“I doubt it! Ugh, I’m busy right now y/n! I’m on my way.”

She hung up, before you could say anything else. You exhaled, and walked towards the officer, ready to handle the situation on your own like you always did. 

“She said she’s on her way. Do I have to be cuffed again?”

The officer looked you once over, “Not if you cooperate and talk to us.”

You nodded your head in agreement and she guided you passed the harried officers into another hallway, the lighting making the walls look a sickly green. She opened one of the doors along the wall and guided you in. A metal table and two matching chairs sat in the middle of the room in front of, what you were sure was the two-way mirror. You sat in the chair that faced it while she took the opposite, her back to the mirror.

“So, what were you doing with Rodney Michaels and Daryl Simpkins tonight, y/n?”

“Those two guys? Are they here?”

“Two of our other officers picked them up, shortly before you. Now what were you doing with them tonight?”

“I wasn’t doing anything with them, I was just walking on the street, and when they ran I thought it would look bad on me so I ran too.”

“Really? You don’t know either of them? Even though Daryl Simpkins is a convicted drug dealer, and you were found to be carrying cash, a pipe, and a lighter. And you expect me to believe, that you weren’t going to buy one of the very things he was convicted for selling?

“Yes, exactly.” 

“Look, here—.”

The officer was cut off as your mother barged into the room, with the police officer’s partner in tow. 

“Y/n, stop talking. Don’t say anything else. Who the hell do you think you are questioning my daughter without her lawyer present.”

“She waived her right to council, when she told me she wanted to cooperate with me.” The woman officer said smugly.

“You have nothing on her! Your probable cause is weak, so your search was unlawful as you didn’t ask for her permission. Which means that anything you found is inadmissible in court, therefore you have no case. I’m taking my daughter home, and don’t bother us a second time or I’ll have both of your badges.”

Your mom beckoned you over and you stood leaving the female officer at the table, her face contorted in rage. Your mom grabbed your wrist and steered you out of the precinct, shoving you directly into the car, that waited outside. You sat quiet for a second as your mom’s driver peeled off, you didn’t know what to say. You supposed you should thank your mom as she had never come so strongly to your defense before, but she was strangely quiet, and you didn’t know if saying something would be the thing to set her off. So, you buckled your seatbelt and tried to be as quiet as possible as she stared straight ahead not saying a word. The car ride was short and you were surprised that when you got out of the car, that your mother followed waving off her driver. You walked up to the front door with her, your hands fidgeting inside your pockets. She unlocked the door and you both walked inside, you closed the door behind you and all hell broke loose.

“WHAT THE HELL WERE YOU DOING ON THAT SIDE OF TOWN WITH A CONVICTED DRUG DEALER AND DRUG MONEY IN YOUR POCKETS!”

You felt yourself visibly shrink, you were suddenly feeling ten years old. Back to the time when you were afraid of your mother, then you used to run or hide, but now, facing her was your only option in the hollow house.

“I was just…” You trailed off, you could blame it on Jason and tell her that you were just getting stuff for him and everything you had on you was his, but you knew she would just see right through you.

“You were just what, y/n?!”

“I was gonna buy weed from him, but then the cops showed up and I ran.” You rushed it all out in one breath, then looked down at your hands, not moving from your position in front of the door.

Your mother paced back in forth in front of you, her heels clacking on the wood floor, as she ran her fingers through her dark hair. You had always thought your mother had never aged, her hair was always long and jet black, her face always perfectly made up, but watching her pace and run her hands through her hair, she suddenly looked old. You started to notice the lines on her face, and the wrinkles around her eyes and forehead, which was crinkled in thought and stress. She walked over to the living room space and sat down on the arm of the couch. The open floor plan of your townhouse suddenly felt cavernous, and you were feeling as small as mouse, still standing by the front door, afraid to move.

“Y/n, I don’t even know who you are anymore? You think I can’t see you, but I do. First, you’re in the hospital because you’re not eating, and then bingeing when you do. Yes, I can hear you heaving in the middle of the night. Now, you’re out in shady areas buying drugs? I can’t help but feel like this is all because you quit ballet, and I still don’t know why you did. And you’re not helping me by not telling me! There was so many schools who wanted you, ones that offered huge scholarships and opportunities, Havilliard still calls me every day and tells me they still have a position open for you, and are ready to offer you whatever it takes. You being here is doing nothing for you at this point. I know you’ve been skipping school, I called your professors, so at this point I don’t know how else to motivate you. I’m sending you to Havilliard, it’s still early in the semester, you can still sign up for classes and do ballet, which may give you back some semblance of your life, an—,”

You cut her off, “MOM! You can’t do that I don’t want to go back to ballet! I won’t go!”

“Oh, really now? Well, what if I kick you out then. Where will you live then. You’re eighteen you should be able to support yourself.”

“Mom, what the hell? I’ll go live with dad then!”

“Oh, you’re going to go live with him and his tramp? You wouldn’t last a week with them in New York. And how would you get there? I’m sure as hell not paying for it.”

“You felt your cheeks heat, your anger rising again, but it just got shut off by your feeling of defeat. Your mom was right, you would have nothing if she kicked you out. You had no money, you never had a job in high school since all your free time was devoted to ballet. You looked around as if you would find some answer on the walls, but none surfaced. You just looked up and met your mom’s eyes. 

“When Havilliard calls tomorrow I’ll tell them that they got themselves a filled spot. I’m done letting you fuck up your life.”

She walked away, her heels tapping against the wood, the sound punctured by her door slamming, and you were left in silence. Not even realizing that tears were falling down your face.

***

The next week had gone by in a blur. Your mother held true to her word, and let Havilliard know they had a new ballet student. The next couple days were spent with you being forcibly signed up for classes, followed by your mother assigning Lori with the job to make you start packing, or start packing for you. You resisted at first, but then after a couple hours Lori snapped at you and told you stop being a brat and be grateful that you were going to school at all. You shut up and started helping her pack and stopped protesting your mother as well. Lori was from Colombia and barely had her high school education, which made you realize how pretentious you had sounded the entire time, and now you felt you had to be as unproblematic as possible to make it up to her. When then end of the week came, it was time for you to leave. The SUV was packed and your mom’s driver was waiting in the foyer, as you stood in front of your mom. The drive to New York was long, and she couldn’t come with you because her case load had only picked up, and she had to present in court the next day. You had already said goodbye to Lori and apologized profusely for being the person you never wanted to be. Lori forgave you and filled your backpack up with snacks after she hugged you for five minutes, when she started crying you quickly gave her a kiss and walked away because you didn’t want to leave a tearstained mess. So, you stood in front of your mother, all your things packed in boxes, your room bare, except for your old ballet photos. You wanted to be mad at her, but you knew she was only doing what she thought was right, even though the thought of dancing again had you internally screaming. You set down your box that contained your ballet shoes and bridged the gap between you and your mother and hugged her tightly, before you knew it you were both crying, big heaving sobs, and your mother was stroking your head softly.

The moment was suddenly punctured by your mother’s driver clearing his throat and insisting you start on the road. Your mother kissed your cheek and told you to call her when you got there. You smiled at her, and picked up your ballet shoes, you then fidgeted with your backpack straps, and when you had nothing left to do, you left the house you’d known for the most of your life for The Big Apple.

***

The ride was long, but you slept most of the way, awakening only when, Dave, your driver, wanted to take a bathroom break. Twelve hours later you were standing in a dorm room unpacking your boxes, when a girl walked in. Her hair was crazy curly and she wore it in a short fro, she looked like she had just come from working out, her dark skin was glistened with sweat, and she was wearing what could only be described as ‘cool street wear’. She extended out her hand to you promptly, beaming at you.

“My name is Sharice, what’s yours?”

“My name is y/n.”

“Oh, that’s pretty! Well as you can see I’m your roommate, are you a dance major too? I do hip-hop and modern dance.”

“Oh, that’s really cool, and yeah I do ballet.”

“Ballet, wow. You must be pretty good to get into the program here. I heard it’s very competitive.” 

“Well, I used to be.”

“Huh?”

“Well, I’m kind of out of shape.”

“Ha! Oh honey, I’m sorry. You better get in shape really quick then. All dance majors will be meeting together tomorrow, to go over our final project for the semester.”

“Final project? Already? I know I came late but, isn’t that like months away?!”

“Oh, it is, but I heard it’s a really big collaborative project, so they’re giving us a lot of time to work on it.” 

Your eyes bugged out of your head and you suddenly felt like you were having a panic attack. You were way out of shape and if you got in there tomorrow and looked like an idiot, you were sure no one would let you live that down. Sharice was kind though and helped you move in the rest of your stuff; color-coding your closet for you as she talked about Atlanta and her family. You had a sense that you would really like her, but your mind was still preoccupied with ballet, you wanted to impress people but it had been months since you put on your pointe shoes and the thought scared you, but at this point your choices were slim to none. After all your belongings were unpacked, it was dinnertime. Sharice asked you if you wanted to go downstairs to the dining hall and eat with her and her friends, you thanked her but told her you were going to head to the dance studio and try to get a head start, she gave you a pitying gaze and informed you where to go. Since you were a dance major, they housed you and all the other ones together near the dance studios on campus, so the walk to the closest school building was no more than five blocks. When you got there, you were in awe, the first floor was a café and meeting area, the ceiling seeming to extend forever, with the walls accented by modern art. You got into the elevator and went to the second floor which opened to a comfortable lounge area that was filled with couches and tables all facing towards the floor-to-ceiling windows which made up the walls adjacent to the elevator. You made your way towards the door across the lounge area which had “Maria Laughlin Dance Studio” frosted onto the glass doors. 

You walked into the room and your jaw dropped, it was the most beautiful dance studio you had ever been in. The adjacent wall had ballet bars built into the mirrors, mirroring the opposite wall, but the what really stole the show was the polished baby grand piano which stood in front of the wall of windows across the room. The city lights sparkled beyond the glass, as the cars and people bustled along the busy New York street. You suddenly felt so apart of it all, connected all at once, as you watched the city from above. You turned away from the glass to face the rest of the room, it was time to get back into shape. You shed your large hoodie that you always wore over your dance clothes and moved to stand in front of the mirror. You stared at yourself once again in your tights and leotard, your light gossamer skirt tied around your waist in a perfect bow, your hair once again slicked up into a tight bun, your baby hairs framing your face. You put on your soft ballet shoes and began your stretches, your body out of practice from your usual flexibility. After you finished you moved over to the complicated sound system that was put into the wall next to the entrance, after struggling for twenty minutes you finally figured out how to plug in your phone and you began playing your dance playlist. You started out easy going through your positions and stringing some of them together, doing soft turns, and short leaps, you were messy, as to be expected, but it felt right, spinning through the room. After an hour of that, you walked over to your duffle bag and took out your pointe shoes. You stared at them in your hands for a minute, fingering the soft satin, before you put your toe separators on, and wrapped a band-aid around your big toe then slipping your foot into the familiar shoe. You wrapped the satin ties around your ankle, and moved onto the next. You stood, your feet feeling at home, but foreign all at once, you did some simple movements around the room to get your feet used to the shoes again. You walked up to the mirror, staring yourself in the eyes and breathed deeply, the music was in crescendo, and as the piano sped up and the violins raised in enthusiasm, you inhaled sharply, bouncing off your heels into pointe position. You held your arms up over your head, holding your breath as you pivoted on your toes. You fought to keep your posture perfect, trying to stay right on the tip of the iceberg, you couldn’t let your feet bow forwards, nor bow backward, your spine needed to be aligned, shoulders back, head high. Your old instructor’s words raced in your mind, as you fought the pain in your feet, to stay on pointe. You loosed your breath and inhaled sharply again and attempted to pirouette along the mirror, you spun around once, going for twice, when you fell, hard, your body hitting the wood panels roughly.

“Oo, that had to hurt.”

You looked up and found a man standing just inside the entrance to the studio.

“Yeah, no shit,” You responded.

“Woah… Someone’s crabby.”

“Yeah, I am. Look, can you go find somewhere else to practice?”

“No can do, I use this room every night, so you can find somewhere else to practice or practice with me.”

He moved into the room, dropping his duffle onto the floor and running his hands through his hair, and pursing his thick lips. 

“Well, I was here first. So, run along.”

You picked yourself off the floor, and stood, dusting off your skirt, and rearranging it.

“Well, I’ve been here longer. So, run along.”

You walked towards him, your temper rising, “Last time I checked, your name wasn’t on the door, so get lost.” 

“Well, maybe it should, because then you’d know to get out of MY practice room.”

“Yours?!” You were raising your voice now, your hands balled in fists at your side, “Who the hell do you think you are?!” 

“I’m Park fucking Jimin, and for the last time, get out of MY studio!”

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me on Tumblr for more!


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